Throkar Of The Wilds
Description Throkar is a half breed Vanghoul, large, toned and powerful from years of fighting and training. Often clad in the furs of the beasts he had hunted, their claws will always be found parallel to his fingers, making them a vicious weapon. Upon his back as a blade that belongs more in the hand of a giant than of one even his size, curved like a cleaver, he carves through man and beast alike when needed. His skin is dark green and tough from his time as a fighting slave in the pits, to being marked by steel and beast alike out in the wild lands. Though it is now often marked by drying dark paint with a large eye dabbed upon his chest and his upper back. Thick dark braids run along the centre of his otherwise shaved scalp, with a braid flowing from his chin. History Throkar was conceived with the forced union of Elf and Vanghoul, his father being the Elf and captured to be part of an unsightly ritual. His upbringing was harsh and unforgiving, made to take part in the blood raids and battles his kindred relished in. While he took part in the slaughter, it was not something he greatly enjoyed and eventually as the years passed, he sought to break away from his bloodthirsty kin, leading to his exile. As Throkar departed the war camp, a band of Vanghoul hunters caught sight of him slipping over the walls and made known his desertion, their task now set to ending his life and bringing back his head for a spike. For years he was forced to move on, unable to stop long as his kindred hunted him relentlessly without pause, driving him from one end of the continent to the other. It was three years in that he found himself ensnared by the nets of a slaver band, who after great struggle, subdued and beat him down. They dragged the Half Breed to the arena pits where the common folk of the region would come and wager their petty coin in blood sport. For many years was he hidden there from the Vanghoul hunters and for many years did both his blood and that of his opponents soak the sandy floors of the arenas. Time and time again he was made to kill man and beast alike in the bloody sands and on the few times, he had to resort to his bare hands and teeth to tear out chunks of flesh of slay his opponent. Throkar had resigned himself to this way of life until it was his turn to have his life blood leak out onto the sands of the pit as the victor stands above his eviscerated form until it was announced that he, alongside several other more notable fighters, were to be taken to the larger arenas that lie closer to the heart of the nearby city, their lives to be expended in bloody spectacles for the city favourites.